


clownade

by kalliel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s08e01 We Need to Talk About Kevin, Gen, POV Sam Winchester, Psychological Trauma, S7 Hellatus, Sam hits a dog, Season/Series 08, Tailspinning, Thelma & Louise - Freeform, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4293426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalliel/pseuds/kalliel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thinks about finding the Grand Canyon, somewhere out there in his and Dean’s stupid southwestern fairy tale.  He thinks about pulling a Thelma and Louise.  Or just a Thelma.  But he knows what he’s really doing is pulling a Dean Winchester, and he’s driving himself into the ground.  Sam POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	clownade

Sam heads up I-19, the Impala’s rumble carrying him over the crackle of newly paved roads—roads he knows are new only because they had recently been eliminated. He thinks about finding the Grand Canyon, somewhere out there in his and Dean’s stupid southwestern fairy tale. He thinks about pulling a Thelma and Louise. Or just a Thelma. But he knows what he’s really doing is pulling a Dean Winchester, and he’s driving himself into the ground. He’s driving himself, and the car, and the $2000 it took to fix her straight into the ground.

Sam stops at the next turn-off and sits. The Impala cools. The sky loses its luster. The the neon comes on across the lot, red and blue sickened by the bright fluorescence of Sam’s Flying J. Finally, Sam figures it out: 

The Key to Everything.

He and Dean could have lived months on that $2000. (Gas is, has always been, a separate budget. Gas is, has always been, the reason Sam has suffered. Has lived long enough to suffer.) Alone, Sam could stretch $2000 to almost a year—longer, actually, as his appetite has yet to come crawling, defeated, back. Eternity. Eternity on repeat.

Sam has, on his person, another $2000. He doesn’t know where it’s from, who gave it to him (though he suspects it was him. He suspects it was Sam Winchester), but it’s slick in his pockets, well-handled. A combination of ones and one-hundreds.

Sam has $2000. He turns the radio off.

He’s on this way to the Grand Canyon, semi-conscious, inhabiting five miles ago, five days ago, five years ago, not quite caught up to the road in front of him, when a ghost sprints toward him. Light, wispy. Waiting for someone to take her home. To find her husband. To listen to her story. To save whatever scraps of nothing matter most. To scorched-earth his way into not having to choose, to wonder, what was supposed to matter.

Then it’s corporeal. Then it’s bone, crackling like split asphalt. Then it’s a dog.

 

 


End file.
